Bourbon Confessional
by Zevazo
Summary: Remus and Sirius have a short, slightly drunken talk atop a tower, about philosophy, Regulus and girls. Mostly dialogue. No explicit slash, but hints at nonconsensual nasty things. A mild PG13.


Disclaimer — if I owned it, I would be JK Rowling. If I were JK Rowling, I wouldn't be stressing over my AP Biology test.

Other Disclaimer — I in no way advocate underage drinking, especially atop towers. I started this at ten pm and published it at eleven. And don't rush for your books and start flipping; Kira's not a canon character.

**Bourbon Confessional**

The slow burn of bourbon in Remus's throat seemed to echo the soft burning of the stars up above him. Ruining the new moon with a hangover had not been his intention, but somehow it was happening that way. He was drunk on the summer night as much as on the expensive liquor Sirius had bought, inhibitions gone at sundown, just like that.

"We'd better be careful. We get too drunk and we'll slide off the roof."

"Yeah." Sirius stretched luxuriantly. "Figures, the only sloped tower roof is the one we get ..."

"We could have asked Bertha and Michael to move," Remus suggested, hearing the languor in his own voice. The tiles beneath him were still slightly warm from the day of hot, happy sun.

"Yeah, but they wouldn't have heard us." Sirius tipped back the bottle and pushed it toward Remus, who accepted and took another long draught.

"You ever go stargazing with your family?" Remus asked. "Probably not," he answered himself.

"Yeah, we did, actually," Sirius answered. "Out in the backyard. The backyard's in Scotland."

"Figures, with you people." Remus drank again, passed the bottle back to Sirius. "Not quite butterbeer, though, is it," he said.

"Don't be a child," Sirius chided him. "This is the good stuff. Expensive."

"Yeah, well, I have poor tastes." Remus watched the stars. "You know, if you get your mind oriented right, you can see the earth rotate?"

"Yeah?" said Sirius. "How?"

"If you hold still, you can see the stars move. They rotate around Polaris and you can see it. Except, it's not them moving, it's the earth."

"Cool," said Sirius. Remus heard him open another bottle. The bottles were small, quickly gone. They were on their third.

"Hey, I thought you had Quidditch practice tonight," said Remus.

"I'm quitting."

"No, really?" said Remus, surprised. "Is that why James isn't talking to you? Why?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I've got too many scars now. Someone's gonna notice."

"If I were a good friend I'd tell someone," Remus said, plucking the bottle from Sirius's fingers.

"You _are_ a good friend," Sirius told him. There was a faint slur beginning in his voice. The bourbon loosened their tongues, letting things out easily that normally had to be pried out. "Anyway, if Jamie weren't at practice we'd have asked him up here."

"Hard to do with one bottle at a time," Remus said inconsequentially.

"Not if I'm in the middle," Sirius laughed. "Who's the drunk here? Not him."

"You worried about something tonight?" Remus asked. He shifted. There was a sharp edge of tile under his shoulder.

"Yeah, Regulus again."

"We should have asked him up here," Remus commented. "Share the love. Share the bourbon. Danger of death."

"No. He's with Lucius."

Remus released a short, sharp sigh. "Maybe we should tell Dumbledore."

"You kidding? With the pictures Lucius has of me? Not likely."

"For Regulus's sake," Remus said, an unashamed guilt trip. "Your sake should be good enough, but if not, then for his."

"Regulus doesn't hate it the way I do," Sirius said.

"Why not?" Remus asked. He noticed that he himself was starting to slur a little. He'd never been this drunk before.

Sirius laughed at the question. "Because Reggie's so totally straight it's a perversion," said Sirius. "Makes everybody else insecure, you know. That's part of the reason everybody doesn't like him."

"Is it really?" Remus inquired doubtfully.

"Yeah. No. Maybe. Who cares. No one likes him."

"But people don't hate him," Remus pointed out.

Sirius shrugged and took another long, deep draught. "No one likes him either. No one notices him enough."

"Except Lucius."

"And Voldemort," Sirius mumbled.

Remus nodded. "Yeah. Though hopefully not the same way."

"Eurgh," said Sirius. "No, it's different."

"Hmm," Remus agreed.

"So why are you so ready to be bad tonight, Mr. Prefect?" Sirius asked.

Remus was silent. Then he took the bourbon bottle and drained it. "Had Kira write Amadeo," he said.

Sirius laughed. "Good for you," he said. "So you celebrating? Or you afraid he's going to come fight for his fiancee's honor, drain you dry like a spider on a bug?"

"I had her write and say she was going to honor her engagement." This came out perfectly clear, no slurring in the words.

Sirius raised himself up on an elbow. "You told your girlfriend to marry someone else? Sweet Jesus, Remy, why?"

"Because she made a promise and I won't compromise her that way." Remus had his eyes closed.

"But you let her compromise you any way she wants."

"Shut up about her, okay?" Remus said muzzily. "Not your place to be talking about her."

"Shit, Remus," Sirius sighed. He flopped back down onto the tiles, cracked open the cap on the fourth and last bottle. "Hey," he said a few minutes later. "Don't go to sleep. You'll fall and die."

"I'm not," said Remus. "Give me the whiskey."

"It's bourbon," said Sirius, passing it over.

"I've betrayed everyone I ever loved," said Remus mildly.

"No, you haven't," said Sirius.

Remus shrugged. "Okay. But it's not self-pity, it's plain truth. Kira. You."

"Not me," said Sirius.

Remus passed him the bottle back. "Yes, you. I should have told about what they do to you a long time ago."

"Remus," Sirius said, "this is what happens to pureblood heirs. They call it character building or something."

"That's screwed up," said Remus. "You never told us that."

"Yeah, well, I didn't want ... I wanted ... hell, I don't know."

"And it isn't this bad, usually, is it," said Remus.

"Yeah, guess it's not," said Sirius. He drank deeply, finishing the bottle, then sat up. He pitched the bottle gracefully, so it sailed over the edge and was lost to sight.

Remus sat up too, let the world stop spinning, and threw the next bottle. The last two they threw over together.

Sirius levered himself up to his feet. He swayed only a little as he offered Remus his hand to climb up. Then he maneuvered over to the trapdoor, casting mistrustful looks at the edge of the roof, gripping Remus's elbow so his friend wouldn't slip and go plummeting after the bourbon bottles. "No alcohol tolerance at all," Sirius said affectionately, letting go of Remus to lower himself in.

"'at's because I wasn't a drunk by the time I was fourteen," said Remus, not unkindly.

"Ah, shut up," muttered Sirius as Remus followed him down the ladder.

Remus took a deep breath of cool air and dropped to the floor. Only his natural balance and grace kept him on his feet.

"You can feel the world spin," he referenced their earlier conversation.

Sirius gave him a crooked smile. "See, no need to change your point of view," he said. "A little bourbon'll do the job fine."

Remus found himself in no position to correct his friend at the moment. "'s go to bed," he said. They went off to their dormitory, both mentally preparing to explain to James exactly what Sirius had missed practice for.

End.


End file.
